I: Icicles
"Maker!" Trevelyan groaned, rubbing her arms in an attempt to gain some semblance of warmth back. She'd never realized just how much she despised snow until she was surrounded by it. Suddenly a heavy overcoat was draped across her shoulders, and she sighed in relief as the fur lining almost immediately trapped some of her body heat. Cullen smiled as he situated, sitting down along side her, legs freely dangling over the tavern's roof. She leaned against him without prompt, and they shared their silence as the looked out across the whole of Skyhold.
J: Jealous
She saw the way Alistair looked at his fellow Warden, how Mahariel unknowingly said things that had the man making stupid remarks and funny faces. Leliana was loathe to admit she envied him. Just a touch. The most Mahariel had spoken to her of was the possible stories she possessed, being a minstrel. That wouldn't do, she surmised. Still, she couldn't think of a single thing her and the young elf could possibly have in common.
K: Kittens
When she laid with him, Hawke found he was so much more open than when they spoke in the depths of his clinic in Darktown. He spoke of his time in the Circle, some of it amusing, all of it intriguing. But it was when Anders brought up Ser Pounce-A-Lot and his adoration of the furry creatures that Hawke took note. A week after his birthday, she left a handcrafted basket - courtesy of her mother - atop his cot in the clinic. Inside were two tiny surprises with ribbons around their necks and eyes designed to melt your heart.
L: Letters
Leliana remembers crying the first time she sent Mahariel a note. The distance - a physical thing only - had grown between them, and hastily scrawled ink across paper that warped too easily with age was all that remained of her traveling lover. She kept each one Mahariel sent in turn, a growing stack she could look back upon in the moments her heart weighed too heavy. Still, words were a poor substitute for the awaiting warmth of her lover's missing embrace.